Game of Thrones
by White Mizerable
Summary: Arthur is a prince of the Kingdom of the North, fifth in line for the throne. His brother, the new King, marries him off to a warlord of the plains for political gain. These are his stories of life, love, and intrigue far from home. Rating may go up.


He had never given much thought to marriage, Arthur mused as he stared out at the waves crashing upon the unfamiliar sandy shore. It had always been something that his brothers and sister would have to face, not him. As fifth in line for the throne, he had no pressing need to marry, at least not from his own perspective. His older brother Iain, now King of the North and dreaming of the empires of legend, thought differently on the matter.

Arthur turned his gaze down to his hands, clad in the softest of fur gloves. Despite the thin material, they were far too warm for the climate of the plains, and he knew that this would be the last time he would ever wear them. He would likely never journey north again. The thought made him clench his fists. He did not even want to be here, in these warm, dry plains full of barbarians, but here he stood, unable to return home. As Iain would have said, this was his home now.

"Arthur?"

He did not turn immediately towards the voice, though he recognized it. Instead, he returned to watching the ocean. It was strange to think that this sea was the same as the one he remembered playing in during his youth. He had always wanted to travel it, to sail across its choppy surface and discover new horizons. Those dreams meant nothing now. He sighed, a long, drawn out exhale, and turned to face Toris, the only familiar face from the North that had deigned to stay here with him. "Yes, I'm coming."

His advisor smiled thinly and held out his hand to help his prince up over the rocks separating the shore from the beginning of the plains. "It won't be as horrible as you fear, my lord."

"How do you know what I fear, Toris?" Arthur returned the smile with one even more solemn. The tears that he had fought against for so long struggled to well in the corners of his eyes. "I haven't met, nor even seen my husband-to-be yet. He will probably be another brute, just like the rest of his people, and he will be forceful and horrible and- and-"

Toris patted his hand. "You will meet him in just a moment, my lord. And his people are not brutes- you just have not seen enough of them yet to understand their ways." He glanced over at Arthur and seemed to realize that his attempt at being comforting was failing. He tried again. "Political marriages such as this one are always strange to begin with, but soon, this Alfred will become your closest friend and confidant, and perhaps even love will follow. His people will become your people. You need to give them, and him, a chance."

Arthur sighed again. "You're right, Toris, as always." Far ahead he could hear the sounds of the wedding party, shouts and cheers and music in a language he could not fully comprehend, made by members of the Horse people- his people now. He shivered in the warm air. "I only… Of all the things that I could have imagined for my future, I never once expected this. To be married off like a common bride, for land and power."

"Iain is my King, and my allegiance lies with him, but…" Toris looked around at the empty plain, seemingly searching for any unfriendly eyes and ears. "He is greedy. He benefits more from this marriage than our country as a whole." He hesitated.

"Toris, are you saying…?" Arthur stared at him, wide-eyed but with hope blooming in his stomach.

"I'm not saying anything," Toris replied sharply. His eyes betrayed him. "Come now, my lord, you have a wedding to attend."

Arthur drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "Yes. I do." With Toris by his side, he strode across the last few yards separating him from his future. Tall grass brushed against his bare arms. The standing stones rose up in front of him, beautiful works of art in their own right, but he did not spare them a second glance. He would have the rest of his life to admire them properly. The wedding party fell silent, and he felt the stares of hundreds of eyes upon him. He did not linger upon any of their gazes as he looked around for the man who was to be his husband. He did not know what this Alfred would look like, but he hoped he would know him by sight alone. After a moment of searching, though, Arthur's heart sunk. He could not tell.

Then a horn was sounded, and Arthur's gaze, along with all those of the assembled party, turned to look at the opposite end of the stone circle. His breath caught. Through a gap in the stones stepped a man- not just a man, but the man he knew to be his husband. He was tall, broad in the shoulders, and clad only in painted rawhide trousers that wound tightly around his muscular legs. His hair, golden in the sunlight, was decorated in places with beads and feathers. Tanned skin was painted in swirling designs of red, white, and blue, the colors of his people. Though Arthur could not tell his eye color from so far away, he knew that they were not dark, but so bright they nearly gleamed.

So his husband- Alfred- was not an unattractive man. That should have brought a sense of relief to Arthur's pounding heart, but instead it did the opposite, and he felt his pulse rush against his skin. At the very least Alfred seemed to be feeling the same, pausing abruptly in his movements to stand and stare at Arthur with eyes wide and mouth open. Arthur flushed red and averted his eyes.

"My lord, you must walk up to the platform," Toris murmured beside him, and Arthur started out of his embarrassment. He nodded and moved towards the rough stone steps, and his gaze met with Alfred's again. The connection between them remained firm this time, both walking up the symmetrical flights of stairs without looking anywhere but at one another. They sat beside one another upon the rocks at the far end of the platform. Alfred's hand rested gently atop Arthur's own. The warmth of that palm radiated even through Arthur's gloves, and all else seemed to fade around them.

Later on, Arthur would not remember many details of the wedding ceremony. It was conducted mostly in the language of the Horse people, of which he only knew but a few words, and he found himself more interested in the man seated beside him than the strange rituals. He recalled details, small memories, nothing more. Only once the ceremony ended, and the celebration began, did Arthur return to his senses. He and his husband were showered with gifts, some of which Arthur did not recognize.

Alfred shifted beside him, and Arthur turned to watch as the man stood. He nearly followed, but Alfred shook his head and gently moved him back into a seated position. Arthur watched curiously as his husband bent to retrieve a small item from his pile of gifts. Alfred stepped back towards him, knelt down upon the stone platform, and held out his hands slowly, palms cupped around whatever object he had gathered. Arthur peered down at it. At first glance, all he saw was a woven cord, long enough to be worn around the neck, and he frowned in confusion. But as his eyes traveled along its length, they met with a small wooden disk hanging at the end. Engraved into its surface was a fantastical rendering of a horse, comprised of the same style of swirling designs that decorated Alfred's body. What truly caught Arthur's gaze were the dragon wings upon the horse's back, engraved and then painted with white glaze. He knew them immediately. They were part of the symbol of his own people, of the North- the white dragon. Alfred murmured something, the words slipping out over his tongue, but Arthur did not understand them. He shook his head, confused, and Alfred frowned.

Toris, who had been standing by the side of the platform to watch the proceedings, cleared his throat to draw their attention. "My lord, I believe he is asking you to bend forward so he can place it around your neck."

"Oh!" Arthur blushed, meeting Alfred's eyes for barely an instant before leaning down to allow those large hands to slide the cord over his head. The weight of the pendant was small, but oddly comforting. He lifted it to run his fingers over the design. "Was I… supposed to procure a gift for him as well?"

Alfred cocked his head sideways, uncomprehending. Toris smiled. "No, you had no obligation to. The husband bestows gifts on the wife in this culture."

"I see." Arthur ran his fingers across the pendant again, then froze. "Wait, the wife? But I'm male! I cannot be the wife!"

Toris chuckled, and turned his gaze to Alfred. His lips formed a few words of the Horse people's language, which Arthur still could not decipher, but assumed that it was some sort of translation of his outburst. Alfred smiled and laughed. It was a joyful sound, and Arthur knew immediately that he liked it. Before he could say anything further, Alfred was pulling himself to his feet again, and striding down the rough steps to the center of their wedding party. The Horse people cleared a wide circle for him.

"What is he doing now?" Arthur whispered to Toris, watching his new husband intently. The man was retrieving two long wooden sticks, each bound at both ends with some kind of wet cloth.

"He's completing the ritual, and performing for you, his queen."

Arthur would have questioned him further, but at that moment the sticks in Alfred's hands seemed to magically burst into flame. Arthur gasped in shock and nearly cried out for help. He could not let his husband be burned! Yet Alfred was unfazed by the flames burning at the ends of his staves. In fact, he began to spin them around in his hands, so quickly that his fingers were mere blurs in Arthur's vision. After a moment, Arthur settled back against his rocky seat.

The whirling flames were breathtaking. They seemed to fly around Alfred as he moved, bending and twisting in ways that Arthur would never have thought possible, highlighted by the glow of the fire. The evening darkness swallowed whatever part of Alfred fell into shadow, only to be revealed again by the flames. Alfred's eyes, blue as the sea by daylight, shone red and violet as firelight flickered across them. His body paint caught the light and glittered like stars. Arthur was mesmerized, unable to think of anything but the man before him. The flames took on a life of their own in his mind, moving and dancing around the body of his husband. First they were horses, free and wild as they ran across the plains, and then they were dragons, beating the air with fiery wings, and then they were the ocean, waves crashing upon the shore. In the midst of the ever-changing images, Alfred was not quite solid, merely another phantom of the flames. The stars and moon paled in comparison.

Arthur could have watched the dance forever, but eventually Alfred tired. Sweat rolled down his body as he spun the staves once, twice, thrice more, then brought one up to his mouth and breathed upon it. Flames shot skyward, and Arthur cried out in delight. It was another tribute to him, a display of dragon's breath, a sign that Alfred knew and understood and respected his heritage, and it was beautiful. Arthur slowly lifted himself to his feet as Alfred put out the flames one by one. Their gazes met. Arthur smiled, and Alfred returned it. Neither spoke, since they would not be able to understand one another anyway.

As Alfred joined him once again upon the stone platform, and sat down upon his rocky seat, Arthur did not immediately follow. He stared up at the stars, and cupped the dragon-horse pendant in his hands, and listened to the waves crashing far off upon the shore. A gentle touch to the back of his leg drew his attention back to Alfred, who watched him curiously even as the rest of his people went back to their merry-making. Arthur smiled at him again, more shyly this time, and sat.

He was married now. It was not quite how he had imagined, in those few times he had spared it a thought, but as Alfred grinned and laughed and handed him a leg of some sort of meat, he found that he was not entirely certain whether that was a misfortune or an relief.

There was strong ale being passed around, and Alfred smelled of horses and fire and sweat. Arthur decided to wait to pass judgment. He drank deeply and laughed at words he did not understand with the people who were now his.

* * *

><p>AN- My brother and I discovered the television show "Game of Thrones" a few days back. Needless to say, we both absolutely love it. I fully intend to go out and buy the books now, because a realistic fantasy world that deals with war and inheritance and old magic and the like is definitely up my alley.

Anyway, "Game of Thrones" inspired this. In fact, it inspired quite a lot- this will be a recurring AU, a set of one-shots if you will. It won't be my first priority, but it will be a fun little side project. The future of this AU will likely hold a lot of twists and turns which I can't say much about right now, seeing as I don't actually know them yet, so no promises about what will be ahead. Still, I hope you'll stick around and enjoy.

Thanks for reading, and feel free to shoot me off a review! I even enjoy criticism.


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